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THE 
A M ERIC A N IS M 

OF 

WASHING TON 

Henry van Dyke 




New York and London 

Harper & Brothers Publishers 
1906 



jlJBRARY of CONGRESS 
Iwooouies Kecelved 
SEP 27 190g 



£"3'- 

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CLAS 



>c. No, 



Copyright, 1906, by Harper & Brothers. 

AU rights reserved. 
Published September, 1906. 




I' 



THE 

AMERICANISM 
OF 

WASHING TON 




The Americanism of 
Washington 



HARD is the task of the 
man who at this late day 
attempts to say anything new 
about Washington* But per- 
haps it may be possible to un- 
say some of the things which 
have been saidt and which, 
though they were at one time 
newt have never at any time 
been strictly true* 






The character of Washington, 
emerging splendid from the dtist 
and ttantilt of those great con- 
flicts in which he played the 
leading part, has passed suc- 
cessively into three media of 
obscuration^ from each of which 
his figure, like the sun shin- 
ing through vapors, has re- 
ceived some disguise of shape 
and color* First came the mist 
of mythology, in which we 
discerned the new SU George, 
serene, impeccable, moving 
through an orchard of ever- 
blooming cherry - trees, grace- 
fully vanquishing dragons with 
a touch, and shedding fra- 





grancc and radiance around him* 
Otit of that mythological mist 
we groped otir way, to find our- 
selves beneath the rolling clouds 
of oratory, above which the 
head of the hero was pinnacled 
in remote grandeur, like a 
sphinx poised upon a volcanic 
peak, isolated and mysterious* 
That altitudinous figure still 
dominates the cloudy land- 
scapes of the after-dinner ora- 
tor; but the frigid, academic 
mind has turned away from it, 
and looking through the fog of 
criticism has descried another 
Washington, not really an Amer- 
ican, not amazingly a hero, but 
3 




a very decent English country 
gentleman, honorable, coura- 
geous, good, shrewd, slow, and 
above all immensely lucky^ 

Now here are two of the 
things often said about Wash- 
ington which need, if I mistake 
not, to be unsaid: first, that he 
was a solitary and inexplicable 
phenomenon of greatness; and 
second, that he was not an 
American* 

Solitude, indeed, is the last 
quality that an intelligent stu- 
dent of his career would ascribe 
to him* Dignified and reserved 
he was, undoubtedly; and as 
this manner was natural to 

4 




him, he won more trttc friends 
by tising it than if he had dis- 
guised himself in a forced fa- 
miliarity and worn his heart 
tipon his sleeve* But from first 
to last he was a man who did 
his work in the bonds of com- 
panionship, who trusted his com- 
rades in the great enterprise even 
though they were not his inti- 
mates, and who neither sought 
nor occupied a lonely eminence 
of unshared glory* He was not 
of the jealous race of those who 

** Bear, like the Tarkt no brother near 
the throne**; 



nor of the temper of George III*, 

5 

eg) 





who chose his ministers for their 
vacuous compliancy* Wash- 
ington was surrounded by men 
of similar though not of equal 
strength — Franklint Hamiltont 
KnoXt Greene, the Adamses, 
Jefferson, Madison* He stands 
in history not as a lonely pin- 
nacle like Mount Shasta, ele- 
vated above the plain 

** By drastic lift of pent volcanic fires**; 

but as the central summit of 
a mountain range, with all his 
noble fellowship of kindred 
peaks about him, enhancing 
his unquestioned supremacy by 




their gloriotis neighborhood and 

I their great support* 

Among these men whose 
union in purpose and action 
made the strength and stability 
of the republic, Washington 

I was first, not only in the large- 
ness of his nature, the loftiness 
of his desires, and the vigor of 
his will, but also in that repre- 
sentative quality which makes 
a man able to stand as the 
true hero of a great people* 
He had an instinctive power 
to divine, amid the confusions 
of rival interests and the cries 
of factional strife, the new aims 
and hopes, the vital needs and 





aspirationst which were the com- 
mon inspiration of the peopIe^s 
cause and the creative forces 
of the American nation* The 
power to understand thist the 
faith to believe in itt and the 
unselfish courage to live for it, 
was the central factor of Wash- 
ington's lifet the heart and 
fountain of his splendid Ameri- 
canism* 

It was denied during his 
lifetime, for a little while, by 
those who envied his greatness, 
resented his leadership, and 
sought to shake him from his 
lofty place* But he stood se- 
rene and imperturbable, while 
8 





that denial^ like many another 
blast of evil-scented windt pass- 
ed into nothingness, even be- 
fore the disappearance of the 
party strife out of whose fer- 
mentation it had arisen* By 
the unanimous judgment of his 
countrymen for two generations 
after his death he was hailed as 
Pater Patriae; and the age which 
conferred that title was too in- 
genuous to suppose that the 
father could be of a different 
race from his own offspring* 

But the modern doubt is 
more subtle, more curious, more 
refined in its methods* It does 

not spring, as the old denial did, 
9 



X^ 




from a partisan hatred, which 
would seek to discredit Wash- 
ington by an accusation of un- 
due partiality for England, and 
thus to break his hold upon the 
love of the people^ It arises, 
rather, like a creeping exhala- 
tion, from a modem theory of 
what true Americanism really 
is: a theory which goes back, 
indeed, for its inspiration to 
Dr» Johnson^s somewhat crude- 
ly expressed opinion that *Hhe 
Americans were a race whom 
no other mortals could wish to 
resemble^'; but which, in its 
later form, takes counsel with 

those British connoisseurs who 
10 





demand of their typical Ameri- 
can not depravity of morals but 
deprivation of manners, not 
vice of heart but vulgarity of 
speech, not badness but bump- 
tiousness, and at least enough 
of eccentricity to make him 
amusing to cultivated people* 

Not a few of our native pro- 
fessors and critics are inclined 
to accept some features of this 
view, perhaps in mere reaction 
from the unamusing character 
of their own existence* They 
are not quite ready to subscribe 
to Mr* KipIing^s statement that 
the real American is 

** Unkempt, disreputable, vast,** 




but they are willing to admit 
that it will not do for him to 
be prudent t orderly, dignified^ 
He must have a touch of pict- 
uresque rudeness, a red shirt 
in his mental as well as his 
sartorial outfits The poetry 
that expresses him must recog- 
nize no metrical rules^ The 
art that depicts him must use 
the primitive colors and lay 
them on thick* 

I remember reading some- 
where that Tennyson had an 
idea that Longfellow, when he 
met him, would put his feet 
upon the table* And it is pre- 
cisely because Longfellow kept 




ii 




his feet in their proper place, 
in society as well as in verse, 
that some critics, nowadays, 
would have tis believe that he 
was not a truly American 
poet* 

Traces of this curious theory 
of Americanism in its applica- 
tion to Washington may now 
be found in many places^ You 
shall hear historians describe 
him as a transplanted English 
commoner, a second edition 
of John Hampden* You shall 
read, in a famous poem, of Lin- 
coln as 

** New birth of out new soil, the first 
American/* 



J3 



v-q:/ 




That Lincoln was one of the 
greatest AmericanSt glorious in 
the largeness of his heartt the 
vigor of his manhood, the hero- 
ism of his soult none can doubt* 
But to affirm that he was the 
first American is to disown 
and disinherit Washington and 
Franklin and Adams and Jef- 
ferson^ Lincoln himself would 
have been the man to extinguish 
such an impoverishing claim 
with huge and hearty laughter* 
He knew that Grant and Sher- 
man and Seward and Farragut 
and the men who stood with 
him were Americans, just as 
Washington knew that the Bos- 





ton maltster, and the Pennsyl- 
vania printeft and the Rhode 
Island anchor - smitht and the 
New Jersey preacher, and the 
New York lawyer, and the men 
who stood with him were Ameri- 
cans^ 

He knew it, I say: and by 
what divination? By a test 
more searching than any mere 
peculiarity of manners, dress, or 
speech; by a touchstone able 
to divide the gold of essential 
character from the alloy of su- 
perficial characteristics; by a 
standard which disregarded alike 
Franklin's fur cap and Putnam's 
old felt hat, Morgan's leather leg- 





gings and Witherspoon's black 
silk gown and John Adams's 
I lace rufflest to recognize and 
approve^ beneath these vari- 
ous garbst the vital sign of 
America woven into the very 
^ souls of the men who belonged 
•: to her by a spiritual birth- 
rights 
J For what is true American- 
I ism, and where does it reside? 
Not on the tongue, nor in the 
clothes, nor among the tran- 
sient social forms, refined or 
rude, which mottle the surface 
of human life* The log cabin 
has no monopoly of it, nor is 
it an immovable fixture of the 

16 





stately pillared mansion* Its 
home is not on the frontier nor 
in the poptilotis city, not among 
the trees of the wild forest nor 
the cultured groves of Academe* 
Its dwelling is in the heart* It 
speaks a score of dialects but 
one language, follows a hun- 
dred paths to the same goal, 
performs a thousand kinds of 
service in loyalty to the same 
ideal which is its life* True 
Americanism is this: 

To believe that the inalien- 
able rights of man to life, lib- 
erty, and the pursuit of happi- 
ness are given by God* 

To believe that any form of 





power that tramples on these 

rights is unjust* 

I To believe that taxation with- 

^ out representation is tyranny, 

that government must rest upon 

the consent of the governed, and 

I that the people should choose 

their own rulers* 

To believe that freedom must 
be safeguarded by law and or- 
der, and that the end of freedom 
iis fair play for alL 
To believe not in a forced 
equality of conditions and es- 
tates, but in a true equalization 
of burdens, privileges, and op- 
portunities* 

To believe that the selfish in- 





tcrests of persons^ classes, and 
sections mtist be subordinated to 
the welfare of the commonwealth* 

To believe that union is as 
much a human necessity as lib- 
erty is a divine gift* 

To believe, not that all peo- 
ple are good, but that the way 
to make them better is to trust 
the whole people* 

To believe that a free state 
should offer an asylum to the 
oppressed, and an example of 
virtue, sobriety, and fair deal- 
ing to all nations* 

To believe that for the exist- 
ence and perpetuity of such a 
state a man should be willing 

J9 





to give his whole service, in 
property, in labor, and in life* 

That is Americanism ; an ideal 
embodying itself in a people; 
a creed heated white hot in the 
furnace of conviction and ham- 
mered into shape on the anvil 
of life; a vision commanding 
men to follow it whithersoever 
it may lead them* And it was 
the subordination of the per- 
sonal self to that ideal, that 
creed, that vision, which gave 
eminence and glory to Wash- 
ington and the men who stood 
with him* 

This is the trtrth that emerges, 
crystalline and luminous, from 





the conflicts and confusions of 
the Revolution* The men who 
were able to surrender them- 
selves and all their interests to 
the pure and loyal service of 
their ideal were the men who 
made good, the victors crowned 
with glory and honor* The 
men who would not make that 
surrender^ who sought selfish 
ends, who were controlled by 
personal ambition and the love 
of gain, who were willing to 
stoop to crooked means to ad- 
vance their own fortunes, were 
the failures, the lost leaders, 
and, in some cases, the men 
whose names are embalmed in 





their own infamy* The ulti- 
mate secret of greatness is nei- 
ther physical nor intellectualt 
httt moraL It is the capacity to 
lose self in the service of some- 
thing greater* It is the faith 
to recognize^ the will to obey, 
and the strength to follow, a 
star* 

Washington, no doubt, was 
pre-eminent among his contem- 
poraries in natural endowments* 
Less brilliant in his mental gifts 
than some, less eloquent and 
accomplished than others, he 
had a rare balance of large 
powers which justified Loweirs 
phrase of **an imperial man*'' 



22 --^^ 



■— ^ 





His athletic vigor and skill, his 
steadiness of nerve restraining 
an intensity of passion, his un- 
daunted courage which refused 
no necessary risks and his pru- 
dence which took no unneces- 
sary ones, the quiet sureness 
with which he grasped large 
ideas and the pressing energy 
with which he executed small 
details, the breadth of his in- 
telligence, the depth of his con- 
victions, his power to apply 
great thoughts and principles 
to every -day affairs, and his 
singular superiority to current 
prejudices and illusions — these 
were gifts in combination which 

23 




would have made him distin- 
guished in any company^ in any 
age- 

Btit what was it that won 
and kept a free field for the 
exercise of these gifts? What 
was it that secured for them a 
long, unbroken opportunity of 
development in the activities 
of leadership, until they reach- 
ed the summit of their perfec- 
tion? It was a moral quality* 
It was the evident magnanimity 
of the man, which assured the 
people that he was no self-seek- 
er who would betray their in- 
terests for his own glory or rob 
them for his own gain* It was 

24 





the supreme magnanimity of 
the man, which made the best 
spirits of the time trust him im- 
plicitlyt in war and peace, as 
one who would never forget his 
duty or his integrity in the 
sense of his own greatness* 

From the first, Washington 
appears not as a man aiming 
at prominence or power, but 
rather as one under obligation 
to serve a cause^ Necessity 
was laid upon him, and he met 
it willingly* After "Washing- 
ton's marvellous escape from 
death in his first campaign for 
the defence of the colonies, the 
Rev* Samuel Davies, fourth 





president of Princeton College, 
spoke of him in a sermon as 
*^that heroic yoiitht Colonel 
Washington, whom I can but 
hope Providence has hitherto 
preserved in so signal a manner 
for some important service to 
his country/' It was a pro- 
phetic voice, and Washington 
was not disobedient to the mes- 
sage» Chosen to command the 
Army of the Revolution in 1775, 
he confessed to his wife his deep 
reluctance to surrender the joys 
of home, acknowledged pub- 
licly his feeling that he was not 
equal to the great trust com- 
mitted to him, and then, ac- 

26 




ccpting it as thrown upon him 
** by a kind of destiny/' he gave 
himself body and soul to its ful- 
filment, refusing all pay beyond 
the mere discharge of his ex- 
penseSt of which he kept a strict 
accountt and asking no other 
reward than the success of the 
cause which he served^ 

** Ah, but he was a rich man,'' 
cries the carping critic; **he 
could afford to do it/' How 
many rich men to-day avail 
themselves of their opportu- 
nity to indulge in this kind of 
extravagance, toiling tremen- 
dously without a salary, neg- 
lecting their own estate for 

27 




the public benefitt seeing their 
property diminished without 
complaintt and coming into se- 
rious financial embarrassment, 
even within sight of bankrupt- 
cyt as Washington did, merely 
for the gratification of a desire 
to serve the people? This is in- 
deed a very singular and noble 
form of luxury^ But the wealth 
which makes it possible neither 
accounts for its existence nor 
detracts from its glory. It is 
the fruit of a manhood superior 
alike to riches and to poverty, 
willing to risk all, and to use 
all, for the common good. 
Was it in any sense a misf ort- 

28 




xxm for the people of Americat 
even the poorest among them, 
that there was a man able to 
advance sixty - four thousand 
dollars ottt of his own purse, 
with no other security but his 
own faith in their cause, to pay 
his daily expenses while he was 
leading their armies? This un- 
secured loan was one of the very 
things, I doubt not, that helped 
to inspire general confidence* 
Even so the prophet Jeremiah 
purchased a field in Anathoth, 
in the days when Judah was 
captive unto Babylon, paying 
down the money, seventeen 
shekels of silver, as a token of 

29 





his faith that the land would 
some day be delivered from the 
enemy and restored to peaceful 
and orderly habitation* 

Wa shington^s substantial 
pledge of property to the cause 
of liberty was repaid by a grate- 
ful country at the close of the 
war* But not a dollar of pay- 
ment for the tremendous toil 
of body and mind, not a dollar 
for work ^^overtime,'' for in- 
direct damages to his estate, 
for commissions on the bene- 
fits which he secured for the 
general enterprise, for the use 
of his name or the value of his 
counsel, would he receive* 

30 



m^ 



tg^ 




A few years later, when his 
large sagacity perceived that 
the development of internal 
commerce was one of the first 
needs of the new country, at 
a time when he held no public 
office, he became president of 
a company for the extension 
of navigation on the rivers 
James and Potomac* The Leg- 
islattire of Virginia proposed 
to give him a hundred and 
fifty shares of stock* Wash- 
ington refused this, or any other 
kind of pay, saying that he 
could serve the people better 
in the enterprise if he were 
known to have no selfish inter- 

31 




est in iU He was not the kind 
of a man to reconcile himself to 
a gratuity (which is the Latin- 
ized word for a ** tip ^* offered 
to a person not in livery), and 
if the modem methods of ** com- 
ing in on the ground - floor *^ 
and 'taking a rake-off'' had 
been explained and suggested 
to him, I suspect that he would 
have described them in language 
more notable for its force than 
for its elegance* 

It is true, of course, that the 
fortune which he so willingly 
imperilled and impaired recoup- 
ed itself again after peace was 
established, and his industry 





and wisdom made him once 
more a rich man for those days* 
But what injustice was there 
in that? It is both natural 
and right that men who have 
risked their all to secure for 
the country at large what they 
could have secured for them- 
selves by other meanst should 
share in the general prosperity 
attendant upon the success of 
their efforts and sacrifices for 
the common good* 

I am sick of the shallow judg- 
ment that ranks the worth of 
a man by his poverty or by 
his wealth at death* Many a 

selfish speculator dies poor* 
3 33 




Many an unselfish patriot dies 
prosperous^ It is not the pos- 
session of the dollar that cankers 
the soul, it is the worship of iU 
The true test of a man is this: 
Has he labored for his own in- 
terest, or for the general wel- 
fare ? Has he earned his money 
fairly or unfairly? Does he 
use it greedily or generously? 
What does it mean to him, a 
personal advantage over his 
fellow-men, or a personal op- 
portunity of serving them? 

There are a hundred other 
points in Washington's career 
in which the same supremacy 
of character, magnanimity fo- 





cussed on service to an ideaU 
is revealed in conduct* I see 
it in the wisdom with which he, 
a son of the South, chose most 
of his generals from the North, 
that he might secure immediate 
efficiency and unity in the army* 
\ I see it in the generosity with 
which he praised the achieve- 
ments of his associates, disre- 
garding jealous rivalries, and 
ever willing to share the credit 
of victory as he was to bear the 
burden of defeat* I see it in 
the patience with which he suf- 
fered his fame to be imperilled 
for the moment by reverses and 

retreats, if only he might the 
35 

^ KO> 




more surely guard the frail 
hope of ultimate victory for his 
country* I see it in the quiet 
dignity with which he faced the 
Conway Cabal, not anxious to 
defend his own reputation and 
secure his own power, but nobly 
resolute to save the army from 
being crippled and the cause 
of liberty from being wrecked* 
I see it in the splendid self-for- 
getfulness which cleansed his 
mind of all temptation to take 
personal revenge upon those who 
had sought to injure him in 
that base intrigue* I read it 
in his letter of consolation and 
encouragement to the wretched 





Gates after the defeat at Cam- 
den* I hear the prolonged re- 
echoing music of it in his letter 
to General Knox in 1798^ in re- 
gard to military appointments, 
declaring his wish to *^ avoid 
fettds with those who are em- 
barked in the same general en- 
terprise with myself/' 

Listen to the same spirit as 
it speaks in his circular address 
to the governors of the differ- 
ent States, urging them to *^ for- 
get their local prejudices and 
policies; to make those mutual 
concessions which are requisite 
to the general prosperity, and 
in some instances to sacrifice 

37 



<W 





their individual advantages to 
the interest of the community* 
Watch how it guides him uner- 
ringly through the critical pe- 
riod of American history which 
lies between the success of the 
Revolution and the establish- 
ment of the nation^ enabling 
him to avoid the pitfalls of 
sectional and partisan strife, 
and to use his great influence 
with the people in leading them 
out of the confusion of a weak 
confederacy into the strength of 
an indissoluble union of sover- 
eign States* 

See how he once more sets 
aside his personal preferences 





for a quiet country life, and 
risks his already secure popu- 
larityt together with his repu- 
tation for consistency, by obey- 
ing the voice which calls him 
to be a candidate for the Presi- 
dency* See how he chooses 
for the cabinet and for the Su- 
preme Court, not an exclusive 
group of personal friends, but 
men who can be trusted to 
serve the great cause of Union 
with fidelity and power— Jeff er- 
soQ, Randolph, Hamilton, Knox, 
John Jay, Wilson, Gushing, 
Rutledge* See how patient- 
ly and indomitably he gives 

himself to the toil of office* 
39 ^^^^ 




I deriving from his exalted sta- 
I tion no gain ^'beyond the lus- 
I tre which may be reflected 
I from its connection with a power 
I of promoting human felicity/' 
\ See how he retirest at last, to 
the longed-for joys of private 
life, confessing that his career 
has not been without errors of 
judgment, beseeching the Al- 
mighty that they may bring 
no harm to his country, and 
asking no other reward for his 
labors than to partake, ^*in 
the midst of my fellow-citizens, 
the benign influence of good laws 

L under a free government, the 
ever favorite object of my heart/' 
40 ^ 





Oht sweet and stately wordst 
revealingt through their calm 
reserve, the inmost secret of a 
life that did not flare with tran- 
sient enthusiasm but glowed 
with unquenchable devotion to 
a cause ! ^*The ever favorite 
object of my heart "' — how 
quietly, how simply he discloses 
the source and origin of a 
sublime consecration, a lifelong 
heroism! Thus speaks the vic- 
tor in calm retrospect of the 
long battle^ But if you would 
know the depth and the in- 
tensity of the divine fire that 
burned within his breast you 
must go back to the dark and 

4! 



\Of 





icy days of Valley Forge^ and 
hear him cry in passion un- 
restrained: **If I know my own 
mindt I could offer myself a 
living sacrifice to the butcher- 
ing enemy^ provided that would 
contribute to the peopIe^s ease* 
I would be a living offering to 
the savage fury and die by 
inches to save the people/' 

** The ever favorite object of 
my heart!** I strike this note 
again and again, insisting upon 
it, harping upon it; for it is the 
key-note of the music* It is 
the capacity to find such an 
object in the success of the 
people's cause, to follow it un- 

42 




h 



selfishly, to serve it loyallyt 
that distinguishes the men who 
stood with Washington and who 
deserve to share his fame^ I 
read the annals of the Revolu- 
tion, and I find everywhere 
this secret and searching test 
dividing the strong from the 
weak, the noble from the base, 
the heirs of glory from the cap- 
tives of oblivion and the in- 
heritors of shame* It was the 
unwillingness to sink and for- 
get self in the service of some- 
thing greater that made the 
failures and wrecks of those 
tempestuous timesv through 
which the single - hearted and 





the devoted pressed on to vic- 
tory and honor* 

Turn back to the battle of 
Saratoga. There were two 
Americans on that field who 
suffered under a great personal 
disappointment: Philip Schuy- 
ler, who was unjustly sup- 
planted in command of the 
army by General Gates ; and 
Benedict Arnold, who was de- 
prived by envy of his due share 
in the glory of winning the 
battle. Schuyler forgot his own 
injury in loyalty to the cause, 
offered to serve Gates in any 
capacity, and went straight on 
to the end of his noble life 





giving all that he had to his 
country^ But in Arnold's heart 
the favorite object was not his 
countryt but his own ambition^ 
and the wotind which his pride 
received at Saratoga rankled 
and festered and spread its 
poison through his whole nat- 
ure, until he went forth from 
the camp, *^a leper white as 
snow/' 

What was it that made 
Charles Lee, as fearless a man 
as ever lived, play the part of 
a coward in order to hide his 
treason at the battle of Mon- 
mouth? It was the inward 
eating corruption of that sel- 





fish vanity which caused him 
to desire the defeat of an army 
whose command he had wished 
but failed to attain. He had 
offered his sword to America 
J for his own glory, and when 
that was denied him, he with- 
drew the offering, and died, as 
he had lived, to himself* 

What was it that tarnished 
the fame of Gates and Wilkin- 
son and Burr and Conway? 
What made their lives, and 
those of men like them, futile 
and inefficient compared with 
other men whose natural gifts 
were less? It was the taint of 
dominant selfishness that ran 




through their careers, now hid- 
ing itselft now breaking out in 
some act of malignity or treach- 
ery* Of the common interest 
they were reckless, provided 
they might advance their own* 
Disappointed in that **ever fav- 
orite object of their hearts,^' 
they did not hesitate to imperil 
the cause in whose service they 
were enlisted* 

Turn to other cases, in which 
a charitable judgment will im- 
pute no positive betrayal of 
trusts, but a defect of vision 
to recognize the claim of the 
higher ideaL Tory or Revolu- 
tionist a man might be, accord- 





ing to his temperament and 
conviction ; but where a man 
begins with protests against 
tyranny and ends with sub- 
servience to it, we look for the 
cause* What was it that sepa- 
rated Joseph Galloway from 
Francis Hopkinson ? It was 
Galloway's opinion that, while 
the struggle for independence 
might be justifiable, it could not 
be successful, and the tempta- 
tion of a larger immediate re- 
ward under the British crown 
than could ever be given by 
the American Congress in which 
he had once served* What was 
it that divided the Rev* Jacob 



48 



MD^ 



^d> 





Duche from the Rcv^ John 
Witherspoon ? It was Duchess 
fear that the cause for which 
he had prayed so eloquently in 
the first Continental Congress 
was doomed after the capture 
of Philadelphia, and his unwill- 
ingness to go down with that 
cause instead of enjoying the 
comfortable fruits of his native 
wit and eloquence in an easy 
London chaplaincy* What was 
it that cut William Franklin off 
from his professedly prudent and 
worldly wise old father, Benja- 
min ? It was the luxurious and 
benumbing charm of the royal 
governorship of New Jersey* 





Professedly prudent ^* is the 
phrase that I have chosen to 
apply to Benjamin Franklin* 
For the one thing that is clear^ 
as we turn to look at him and 
the other men who stood with 
Washington^ is that, whatever 
their philosophical professions 
may have been, they were not 
controlled by prudence* They 
were really imprudent, and at 
heart willing to take all risks 
of poverty and death in a strug- 
gle whose cause was just though 
its issue was dubious* If it be 
rashness to commit honor and 
life and property to a great ad- 
venture for the general good, 

50 





then these men were rash to 
the verge of recklessness^ They 
refused no peril, they withheld 
no sacrifice, in the following of 
their ideaL 

I hear John Dickinson saying : 
**It is not our duty to leave 
wealth to our children, but it 
is our duty to leave liberty to 
them* We have counted the 
cost of this contest, and we find 
nothing so dreadful as volun- 
tary slavery/' I see Samuel 
Adams, impoverished, living 
upon a pittance, hardly able to 
provide a decent coat for his 
back, rejecting with scorn the 
offer of a profitable office, 




wealth, a title even, to win him 
from his allegiance to the cause 
of America* I see Robert Mor- 
ris, the wealthy merchant, open- 
ing his purse and pledging his 
credit to support the Revolu- 
tion, and later devoting all his 
fortune and his energy to re- 
store and establish the financial 
honor of the Republic, with the 
memorable words, *'The United 
States may command all that 
I have, except my integrity/^ 
I hear the proud John Adams 
saying to his wife, **I have ac- 
cepted a seat in the House of 
Representatives, and thereby 
have consented to my own 

52 

(pyi Ko> 



v^ 





f tiiiit to yotir rain, and the ruin 
of oar children **; and I hear 
her reply, with the tears run- 
ning down her face, ^^Well, I 
am willing in this cause to run 
all risks with you, and be ruined 
with yout if you are ruined/^ 
I see Benjamin Franklin, in the 
Congress of 1776, already past 
his seventieth year, prosperous, 
famous, by far the most cele- 
brated man in America, accept- 
ing without demur the diffi- 
cult and dangerous mission to 
France, and whispering to his 
friend, Dr^ Rush, ^'I am old 
and good for nothing, but as 
the store-keepers say of their 

53 





remnants of clotht *I am but a 
iag-endf and you may have me 
for what you please/ '^ 

Here is a man who will il- 
lustrate and prove, perhaps bet- 
ter than any other of those 
who stood with Washington, the 
point at which I am aiming. 
There was none of the glamour 
of romance about old Ben 
Franklin^ He was shrewd, can- 
ny, humorous* The chivalric 
Southerners disliked his philos- 
ophy, and the solemn New- 
Englanders mistrusted his jokes* 
He made no extravagant claims 
for his own motives, and some 
of his ways were not distinctly 





ideal* He was full of pruden- 
tial proverbs, and claimed to 
be a follower of the theory of 
enlightened self - interest ♦ But 
there was not a faculty of his 
wise old head which he did not 
put at the service of his coun- 
tryt nor was there a pulse of 
his slow and steady heart which 
did not beat loyal to the cause 
of freedom* 

He forfeited profitable office 
and sure preferment under the 
crown, for hard work, uncertain 
pay, and certain peril in behalf 
of the colonies* He followed 
the inexorable logic, step by 
step, which led him from the 

55 





natural rights of his cotintry- 
men to their liberty, from their 
liberty to their independence* 
He endured with a grim humor 
the revilings of those whom he 
called ^* malevolent critics and 
bug-writers/^ He broke with 
his old and dear associates in 
England, writing to one of them. 



**YotJ and I were long friends; yoti 
are now my enemy and I am Yours, 
B. Franklin/' 



He never flinched or faltered 
at any sacrifice of personal ease 
or interest to the demands of 
his count ry^ His patient, skil- 
ful, laborious efforts in France 




did as much for the final victory 
of the American cause as any 
soldier's sword* He yielded his 
own opinions in regard to the 
method of making the treaty 
of peace with England, and 
thereby imperilled for a time 
his own prestige* He served as 
president of Pennsylvania three 
timeSt devoting all his salary 
to public benefactions* His in- 
fluence in the Constitutional 
Convention was steadfast on 
the side of union and harmony, 
1 though in many things he dif- 
fered from the prevailing party* 
His voice was among those who 
hailed Washington as the only 

57 



C ^ 






possible candidate for the Presi- 
dency* His last public act was 
a petition to Congress for the 
abolition of slavery* At his 
death the government had not 
yet settled his accounts in its 
service, and his country was 
left apparently his debtor ; 
which, in a sense still larger 
and deeper, she must remain 
as long as liberty endures and 
union triumphs in the Republic* 
Is not this, after all, the root 
of the whole matter ? Is not 
this the thing that is vitally 
and essentially true of all those 
great men, clustering about 
Washington, whose fame we 

58 








honor and rzYZtz with his ? 
They all left the commtinityt 
the commonwealth, the race, 
in debt to them* This was 
their purpose and the ever-fav- 
orite object of their hearts* 
They were deliberate and joy- 
ful creditors* Renouncing the 
maxim of worldly wisdom which 
bids men **get all you can and 
keep all you get,'^ they resolved 
rather to ^ivz all they had to 
advance the common cause, to 
use every benefit conferred upon 
them in the service of the gen- 
eral welfare, to bestow upon the 
world more than they received 

from it, and to leave a fair and 
59 





tinblotted account of business 
done with life which should show 
a clear balance in their favor* 



ThuSt in brief outline^ and in 
words which seem poor and 
inadequate^ I have ventured 
to interpret anew the story of 
Washington and the men who 
stood with him: not as a stir- 
ring ballad of battle and dan- 
ger, in which the knights ride 
valiantly, and are renowned 
for their mighty strokes at the 
enemy in arms; not as a philo- 
sophic epic, in which the de- 
velopment of a great national 
idea is displayed, and the strug- 



60 



<s> 



^ 




gle of opposing policies is traced 
to its conclusion; hut as a 
drama of the eternal conflict 
in the soul of man between self- 
interest in its Protean forms, 
and loyalty to the right, service 
to a cause, allegiance to an ideaL 
Those great actors who played 
in it have passed away, but the 
same drama still holds the stage^ 
The drop-curtain falls between 
the acts; the scenery shifts; the 
music alters; but the crisis and 
its issues are unchanged, and 
the parts which you and I play 
are assigned to us by our own 
choice of ** the ever favorite ob- 
ject of our hearts/* 

61 ^ 

&> 





Men tell us that the age of 
ideals is past^ and that we are 
now come to the age of ex- 
pediency, of polite indifference 
to moral standards, of careful 
attention to the bearing of dif- 
ferent policies upon our own 
personal interests* Men tell us 
that the rights of man are a 
poetic fiction, that democracy 
has nothing in it to command 
our allegiance unless it pro- 
motes our individual comfort 
and prosperity, and that the 
whole duty of a citizen is to 
vote with his party and get an 
office for himself, or for some 
one who will look after him* 

62 




Men tell as that to succeed 
means to get money, because 
with that all other good things 
can be secured^ Men tell tis 
that the one thing to do is to 
promote and protect the par- 
ticular trade, or industry, or 
corporation in which we have 
a share: the laws of trade will 
work out that survival of the 
fittest which is the only real 
righteousness, and if we survive 
that will prove that we are fit* 
Men tell us that all beyond this 
is phantasy, dreaming, Sunday- 
school politics: there is nothing 
worth living for except to get 
on in the world; and nothing at 

63 





all worth dying for, since the 
age of ideals is past* 

It is past indeed for those who 
proclaim, or whisper, or in their 
hearts believe, or in their lives 
obey, this black gospeL And 
what is to follow ? An age of 
cruel and bitter jealousies be- 
tween sections and classes; of 
hatred and strife between the 
Haves and the Have-nots; of 
futile contests between parties 
which have kept their names 
and confused their principles, 
so that no man may distinguish 
them except as the Ins and 
Outs* An age of greedy privi- 
lege and sullen poverty, of bla- 

64 




tant luxury and curious envy, 
of rising palaces and vanishing 
homes, of stupid frivolity and 
idiotic publicomania ; in which 
four hundred gilded fribbles give 
monkey-dinners and Louis XV* 
revels, while four million un- 
gilded gossips gape at them and 
read about them in the news- 
papers* An age when princes 
of finance buy protection from 
the representatives of a fierce 
democracy; when guardians of 
the savings which insure the 
lives of the poor, use them as a 
surplus to pay for the extrav- 
agances of the rich ; and when 
men who have climbed above 

65 





their fellows on golden ladders, 

I tremble at the crack of the 

blackmailer^s whip and come 

I down at the call of an obscene 
newspaper* An age when the 
I python of political corruption 
casts its *' rings '" about the 
neck of proud cities and sover- 
eign States, and throttles hon- 
esty to silence and liberty to 
death* It is such an age, dark, 
confused, shameful, that the 
sceptic and the scorner must 
face, when they turn their 
backs upon those ancient shrines 
where the flames of faith and 
integrity and devotion are 

flickering like the deserted 
66 




altar -fires of a forsaken wor- 
ship* 

But not for as who claim otir 
heritage in blood and spirit 
from Washington and the men 
who stood with him, — not for 
us of other tribes and kindred 
who 

** Have found a fatherland ttpon this 
shore/* 



and learned the meaning of 
manhood beneath the shelter 
of liberty t — not for us, nor for 
our country, that dark apostasy, 
that dismal outlook! We see 
the palladium of the American 
ideal — goddess of the just eye, 

67 

(pyi Ko> 






the anpollated hearty the equal 
hand — standing as the image of 
Athene stood above the tipper 
streams of Simois: 



** It stood, and stin and moonshine 
rained their light 
On the pure columns of its glen- 
btjilt halL 
Backward and forward rolled the 
waves of fight 
Round Troy — but while this stood 
Troy could not fall/* 



We see the heroes of the present 
conflict^ the men whose alle- 
giance is not to sections btrt 
to the whole people, the fearless 
champions of fair play^ We 
hear from the chair of Wash- 





ington a brave and honest voice 
which cries that our industrial 
problems must be solved not in 
the interest of capital^ nor of 
labor^ bat of the whole people* 
We believe that the liberties 
which the heroes of old won 
with blood and sacrifice are ours 
to keep with labor and service* 



All that out fathers wrought 
"With true prophetic thought, 
Must be defended/* 



No privilege that encroaches 
upon those liberties is to be 
endured* No lawless disorder 
that imperils them is to be sanc- 
tioned* No class that disre- 

69 





gards or invades them is to be 
tolerated, u^i^^^ 

There is^ auite Ynat is worth 
living nowt as it was worth liv- 
ing in the former days, and that 
is the honest life, the useful life, 
the unselfish life, cleansed by 
devotion to an ideaL There is 
a battle that is worth fighting 
now, as it was worth fighting 
then, and that is the battle for 
justice and equality ♦ To make 
our city and our State free in 
fact as well as in mime ; to break 
the rings that strangle real lib- 
erty, and to keep them broken ; 
to cleanse, so far as in our power 
lies, the fountains of our national 

70 




life from political, commercial^ 
and social ccj^f «ptiQji ; to teach 
oar sons and datrgfiterst by pre- 
cept and example, the honor 
of serving such a country as 
America — that is work worthy 
of the finest manhood and 
womanhood* The well born 
are those who are born to do 
that work* The well bred are 
those who are bred to be prottd 
of that work* The well educated 
are those who see deepest into 
the meaning and the necessity 
of that work* Nor shall their 
labor be for naught, nor the re- 
ward of their sacrifice fail them* 
For high in the firmament of 

71 




human destiny are set the stars 
of faith in mankind, and un- 
selfish coarage, and loyalty to 
the ideal ; and while they shine, 
the Americanism of Washington 
and the men who stood with 
him shall never, never die^ 



THE END 



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